Not Happening

Chapter 4

Liam isn't in the bathroom when Zayn goes to take his shower; Liam isn't there when Zayn gets back to the room, but his side is spotlessly clean. And Zayn's grateful, even if he spends the next twenty minutes cleaning his own side of the room and getting their laundry. He's not sure what he'd say if Liam had been there. Not sure if this changes things or not, because he still hates Liam, he does. Maybe he hates Liam even more.

Everything inside of him is in turmoil. He can't sort out his thoughts or emotions. On one hand, he's shocked it happened. On the other hand, he thinks that maybe a tiny, little part of him seen it coming. Another part of him is pissed for even thinking that. And he feels angry with himself, angry with Liam, and he's regretting it already. He regrets it so much, because he can't get the way Liam had felt inside of him out of his mind; the way he'd gripped Zayn's hips and tugged at his hair. While, at the same time, he doesn't regret it at all.

Eventually he leaves the room with his laptop and his books and his paper. He can't be in there anymore.

Only he can't focus on his work. He gets to the library, sets himself up, and then he stares at the word document, fingers hovering over the keys, eyes glazed. He tries, though. Spends about an hour copying the words painstakingly slow, but he keeps misspelling things, skipping lines, missing words. There's so many words underlined in red that he gives up, shutting the laptop.

Louis and Harry aren't in the common room when he gets there, so he hikes his bag higher on his shoulder and heads for their room.

Their room is only six down from Zayn's, which is how he met them. The day after they'd moved in, the first time Zayn had the room alone since Liam walked in the door, he was unpacking, and someone had knocked at the door. He went to answer it, and the next thing he knows there's this guy sitting on his bed, telling Zayn his life story, while his friend stood in the doorway, looking both pleased and apologetic.

Apparently, or so Harry told him later, Zayn was the only one who allowed Louis through the door, which is why he's now stuck with the two of them. Louis pushed into Zayn's life without invitation, and he brought Harry along like a carry-on bag. Not that Zayn minds. Befriending the two of them is probably the only exciting thing he's done since he got here. Well, it was. He's pretty sure having sex with Liam is now on that list.

When Zayn gets to their room, he pushes the door open. They have a whiteboard on the door that Harry obsessively uses to let people know if they're in the room, out of the room, or in the room and want to be alone. Right now it reads 'COME IN!' with a sloppy smiley face beside it.

He finds the two of them stuffed on Louis' bed, a box of pizza between them. Harry's sitting with his legs neatly crossed, taking up as little room as possible. Louis is spread out, limbs everywhere, lying on his stomach while he shoves a slice of pizza in his mouth. Which is such a good representation of both of their personalities, really.

"Hungry?" Harry asks, nudging the box towards the edge of the bed. "Help yourself. My mom sent me extra cash this week."

Zayn nods mutely and takes a piece of pizza, picking off the slices of pepperoni before he takes a bite. It's not hot anymore, but it's greasy and cheesy and delicious anyway. He chews as he sinks onto Louis' bed, pulling his legs up, before asking, "Can I stay here tonight?"

"Are you going to spend the whole night bitching about whatever it is Liam did that makes you not want to stay in your own room?" Louis inquires.

Zayn looks down at his food. "No."

"Hey," Harry says softly, "you okay? Did he do something?"

"Liam always does something," Louis reminds him.